


Pyro

by elderscrolls



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: AU, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, i have no idea what else to tag this as but
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-12 06:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15333594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elderscrolls/pseuds/elderscrolls
Summary: When Mollymauk Tealeaf is imprisoned by the Empire, he thinks he knows what to expect - until he's thrown into an arena with a man who burns anything he touches.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whats up this is basically the grimdark version of my fic [burnout](http://archiveofourown.org/works/15271362/chapters/35424645). its the same sort of concept, with caleb having a fire touch - i entirely stole the concept from wings of fire, so if its confusing, try looking up firescales / peril on the wof wiki ! the mechanics will also be elaborated on a little more future chapters
> 
> also caleb is ooc bc this is the equivalent of, in the canon verse, when he was still working for trent
> 
> if you want an idea of the vibe, i had [this song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hf6AxGQM4gM) on loop while i was writing it

Molly let out a pained grunt around his gag as he was yanked to his feet and shoved forward, then held in place with an iron grip as the chains binding him were unlocked. They hit the ground with a loud clatter, breaking the stifling silence of the unbearably small cell. He tried to ask,  _what's going on?_ , but with the gag it came out sounding more like _whhs gng n?_ His captors must have gotten the gist of it, though, because the one on his left - a heavily built human man - let out a dark chuckle, while the one on the right gave him a pitying look.

“Today's your unlucky day, prisoner. You get to face off against off against Wildfire.”

Oh. The gladiator fights. Molly remembered hearing about them - the Empire held them regularly to make examples of their prisoners. His stomach dropped as he recalled the more graphic details, the warnings that he should kill himself rather than be captured for this exact reason. He had no idea who Wildfire was, although he had the distinct feeling he should, but at the same time he knew he didn't want to find out.

He protested through the gag, struggled in his two captors’ grips, but they hauled him with ease through the dimly lit tunnels towards the currently closed gate. Outside the gate, bright sunlight - Molly had to squint from the force of it - illuminated a grisly arena. Sand spread as far as the eye could see, with scorch marks and spatters of blood covering a fair amount of it, as well as the stone walls of the coliseum. Although he couldn't see the crowd, he guessed based on the cheers filtering through the ceiling that the seating was above them.

And directly in front of him were two people facing off. The first was an elf desperately clutching an ax, and her scrawniness told Molly that she was another prisoner. She was dressed in the same filthy rags he had been shoved into - although hers were more torn and ragged - and they were currently covered in blood and all sorts of other unsavory fluids, possibly from previous fights. She was backing up quickly, stumbling in her haste, in what appeared to be a desperate attempt to escape the other fighter.

The fighter in question would have been beautiful, had he not been covered in sand and blood. He was almost as scrawny as the prisoners, but his uniform gave him away, a cloak emblazoned with the Empire's symbol. Besides that, though, he was scantily clad - a loose, cropped shirt and short trousers. The exposed skin was deathly pale and held a fair amount of scars, as well as what appeared to be fresh bruises and cuts. Molly caught a glimpse of bright blue eyes peeking out from beneath long, unkempt red-orange hair, some of which had been tied back in a ponytail. An odd choice. Most in fighting professions tended to keep their hair short, to avoid it being grabbed.

Another odd thing was that he carried no weapon. So he was a magic-user, perhaps, but that didn't explain the utter _fear_ in the elf's eyes. Surely she would have had the advantage if she was closer? But she kept backing up until she slammed against the wall, and only then, as the man slowly advanced on her - he moved at a leisurely pace that spoke of confidence - did she slash forward. The man ducked easily, lunging and gripping her wrist.

She let out an ear-splitting scream.

Molly saw why, after a moment. Smoke had begun to curl from her wrist, and he could see even from here that the flesh where he had touched was beginning to burn and blacken at an alarming rate. She tried to thrust the ax forward, but the man grabbed her opposite wrist as well, twisting to force her to drop the weapon. Then he let go of one wrist to pin her to the wall by her neck, and if Molly had thought the screaming _before_ was bad, it was _nothing_ compared to what dragged itself out of her throat now.

Molly squirmed and thrashed desperately in the guards' grasps, wanting to cover his ears, wanting to run, _oh gods he couldn't face this monster_ , but the pair gripped him ever tighter, although there were grimaces on their own faces.

Out in the arena, the elf went limp. She was almost unrecognizable now, only a tangle of steaming, marred flesh that the man let drop to the ground with an unreadable expression. There were cheers and clamors and over it all an announcer, voice amplified by Thaumaturgy, but Molly couldn't focus on any of it. His head was swimming and his ears were ringing and he was going to be _sick_. His prediction turned out to be right as, almost immediately after the gag was removed - most prisoners didn't have them, but he had been deemed loud and obnoxious - he doubled over and emptied the meager contents of his stomach onto the ground. He was vaguely aware of the guards shuffling uncomfortably behind him, before one of them shoved him towards a rack of weapons that he hadn't noticed before.

“Pick one. Or two, I don't care.” The guard shrugged. "Won't make a difference."

“Please don't make me face that thing.” Molly's voice came out in a rasp, partially from disuse and partially from how raw his throat still felt.

If he wasn't mistaken, there was pity on the faces of the two guards. His hopes briefly rose until they were crushed with, “you shouldn't have made an enemy of the Empire.” His hands trembled as he selected two scimitars, most reminiscent to the pair he usually carried. Not that he had ever been particularly good with them, but the familiarity was comforting. Ish. Not that anything could really comfort him when he faced an imminent, extremely painful death.

No sooner had he grasped the blades than he was being shoved through the now-open gate, which slammed shut immediately. Oh gods. This was really happening.

Out in the arena, everything was _different_. The air itself hummed with energy. The sun beat down on him, making him begin to sweat in the couple seconds he had been standing out there, and the overwhelming _stench_ was one of the only things he could register, the smell of death and burning flesh, amplified by the heat. Wildfire - he knew now without a doubt that the man was Wildfire - stood on the opposite side of the arena, studying Molly carefully. If Molly didn't die in a blaze of fire, he would die of a heart attack, he was sure of it; his heart was doing its best to hammer its way out of his chest.

Overhead, the amplified announcer continued. “Next, we have another prisoner - a tiefling who thought he could start a revolution. His and his followers' little revolution will go up in flames,” he paused to chuckle at his own sick joke, “against Wildfire!” Then a loud gong crashed overhead, and the man was charging at him.

Molly let out a panicked shout, narrowly managing to dodge - it didn't stop a hurled fireball from singing the edge of his hair, though. So Wildfire was dangerous at a distance, too, then. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He didn't want to die here. He was Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to his friends. He was a self-made man. He didn't want to die in some godawful coliseum, one of hundreds of thousands of forgotten bodies. He was better than this. He wanted to be better than this.

With new determination, he surged forward, arcing one blade towards the region between his opponent's shoulder and neck. He could do this. He just had to be smart about it. Maybe he could activate the blades- but that was _ice_. Would that even do any good against fire?

Before he could plan any further, Wildfire’s hand was reaching for the blade - the man grimaced as it dug into his hand, spraying blood, but then the metal began to fizzle and drip. Molly yanked it away in panic, slicing even deeper into his opponent's hand, and began rapidly backing up, trying his best to weave slightly, to throw off the aim for any long-range spell.

Wildfire, on the other hand, seemed unhurried as he shook some of the blood off of his hand. Then his narrowed eyes met Molly's, and he was lunging forward, hands outstretched - aiming to grab Molly or use a spell, Molly wasn't sure, but he was quick to dance out of reach, before stepping in as close as he dared to attempt two slashes at the man in quick succession.

Both missed.

For what seemed like forever, they continued like this - Wildfire unable to reach him, Molly unable to land any blows - until suddenly Molly managed a decent gash on Wildfire’s side. Both were equally surprised in this, but Molly recovered from his shock quickly, once more hurriedly stepping back-

-he felt a leg hook under his, and he tumbled down, landing on his back with a hard _thud_ that he was pretty sure rattled his brain around inside his head.

Then he was being pinned down, Wildfire straddling his hips, and hands - oh so warm hands - wrapped around his neck. He flinched, screwing his eyes shut, bracing himself for the burn-

-but it didn't come.

The pressure on his throat was just as tight, but when he opened his eyes, Wildfire was just as bewildered as he - gorgeous blue eyes stretched wide, his lips parted in a soft 'o’. Then his eyes narrowed.

“Who - what - are you?” The voice was soft, with a tinge of Zemnian to it.

Molly's only response was to thrash in his grasp, fumbling to shove the man off of him, and Wildfire was quick to grip his wrists and pin him down. Still no burn. In a bedroom situation, Molly would definitely have been turned on, but the constant fear and panic pumping through him were enough to keep his mind out of the gutter.

“I will get the answer out of you one way or another.” Wildfire's voice was deadly quiet, his tone leaving no room for confusion - this was a promise. Then he looked up, his gaze fixed somewhere in the crowd above him. “I call upon the Champion’s Shield. I wish to spare this man.” His voice echoed against the stone walls.

There were shouts - mostly boos and jeers and calls for Molly's death - but the man stood up, releasing Molly, and no sooner had Molly scrambled to his feet than he was being seized by the guards from before and dragged once more through the gate. He didn't resist this time.

Okay. He had… survived. Not in the way he had planned on, but it beat being a burning corpse in the sand. Now he just had to worry about whatever the hell _“I will get the answer out of you one way or another”_ meant. Torture, probably, but what kind? It wasn't like the man could burn him, apparently. But then again, he had heard the horror stories of just how creative the Empire could get with its prisoners.

Oh, gods. What the actual fuck had he gotten himself into?

This time, when they led Molly back, it wasn't into the tiny cell they had withdrawn him from. They didn't even chain him back up, instead only gripping his shoulders tightly - which was just as effective, given their brute strength and his extremely obvious lack of it.

The cell he was led into instead was down a few winding hallways and up and down a few sets of stairs, to the point he figured they were taking him in loops to confuse them. It was nice enough, though, slightly bigger than his last, and it had a bed - that was definitely a step up, even if the room had literally nothing else besides a bucket to piss in. He was still unchained as they shoved him inside, slamming the heavy metal door shut with a decidedly final-sounding _clank!_ He stumbled forward, barely catching himself on the wall. “Wait! How long am I supposed to be in here?” He shouted, hating the tinge of desperation in his voice, but regardless, there was no response.

He let out a groan, slamming his head against the wall.

He was alone in here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to vague my cat but did you guys know its hard to edit when a certain someone will not stop attacking your hands while you type.. also this ended up similar to another fic of mine in terms of their (future) relationship dynamic but oh well. itll end up more separate as it progresses anyway
> 
> also i honestly hate the name wildfire but i needed a placeholder and now. i cant think of anything else but im too impatient to wait


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Wildfire" attempts to interrogate Molly, and the two continue to get off on the wrong foot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didnt expect so much support for this fic, wow !! im glad people enjoy it, and all the comments mean the world to me, thank you <3
> 
> sorry if this chapter seems a little off, halfway through i scrapped the entire thing and rewrote it

The first hour - hour? Maybe it had only been minutes, he had no way to track time - Molly was okay. It gave him time to think. He noticed, belatedly, that his clothes were scorched where Caleb had touched him. So while his skin was immune, his clothes weren't. Or his hair; he remembered that singing, too. Good to know. He didn't like the idea of potentially being bald, but he supposed that it was better than the rest of him burning.

The second hour - assuming it had been that long - he thought _too_ much, and the reality of the situation hit him, and of course _on top_ of that his fucking claustrophobia was kicking in. He had been just fine in the smaller cell, but then again, it had had bars that gave him a clear view of the outside. This cell's only window, if it could even be called that, was a fist-sized hole in the door that let torchlight in.

His solution to the overwhelming stress was to rock back and forth on top of the bed, hoping the motion would help him calm down. He forced himself to take slow, deep breaths - he was okay. The walls weren't actually closing in on him, there was no dirt suffocating him. The reassurances didn't stop him from letting out small whimpers he definitely would have been ashamed of had he been in a better state of mind, clutching at the bases of his horns to give his hands something to do before he clawed up his arms.

He heard a throat clear somewhere in front of him. “Are you… alright?” He lifted his head to see the man from before - Wildfire - leaning against the door. Somehow he had managed to open and close the door without Molly noticing. He was dressed differently now, covered in simple brown clothes from head to toe, and Molly spotted a flash of white under his shirt as he shifted that indicated a bandage. So, he'd injured him worse than he'd thought. The man had an uncomfortable expression on his face, like he wasn't at all sure how to deal with something like this.

Another thing struck Molly as odd. He hadn't been able to see it before in the harsh sunlight, but now in the dim lighting it was easy to spot the warm orange glow radiating from Caleb, especially evident where his veins were closer to the skin.

Molly tore his gaze away, hoping he hadn't stared too long. “Yeah, I'm fine.” A lie. “You're dressed different.”

“I wear different clothes to fight for, ah, more skin contact, but they are not the most comfortable.”

Hm. He was definitely different outside of the arena - Molly wouldn't go so far as _nice_ , but hey, he wasn't pinning Molly down and threatening him. That was a plus.

“So, what's that Champion's Shield thing you sprang on them out there? No one seemed to really like that.” Molly asked, shifting so that he was sitting cross-legged.

“As the champion, I can choose to spare you. However… that only spares you from _me_. I can do nothing for you if they decide to pit you against someone else.” Wildfire drummed his fingers against his leg as he spoke. “And believe me, they _will_ pit you against someone else. You have been quite the thorn in the Empire's side.”

“Why'd you spare me, then? Even without your fire, I'm pretty squishy. You could've killed me right then and there, and then you wouldn't have had to deal with me.” It probably wasn't a good idea to give the man ideas, but Wildfire only shook his head.

“I need to know how you are immune. If there are others like you…” The tapping of his fingers increased in rhythm.

The interrogation had started, then. Funny, Wildfire didn't appear to have any weapons or other instruments on him - he was probably used to using his fire. That gave Molly an idea. If he used the fire as often as he most likely did, he wouldn't have to be very physically strong, right? Sure, he had been able to pin Molly down, but Molly hadn't exactly been at the top of his game mentally, and it had spilled over physically. This time, he was ready, and he had no doubt that he'd be able to overpower the man as long as he took him by surprise.

His heart sank as he remembered the guards. Assuming they were out there, they'd definitely rush him the moment he stepped outside - or the moment he attacked Wildfire, if the man shouted loud enough. That was something he would have to research. He didn't even know if they bothered posting guards outside of his cell; he couldn't hear anyone outside, but that didn't tell him much. For all he knew, the door was soundproofed. He'd be here long enough, though, maybe he could start trying to memorize when he could hear guards-

-it hit him suddenly just how long he'd be here. He was a traitor to the Empire. They'd never willingly let him go free. If he was clever enough, he could escape, but who knew how long _that_ would take?

He took a slightly shuddering breath, trying to push down his worries for a moment, and flashed Wildfire his cockiest grin. “If I'm giving information, I want some in return,” he stated, leaning forward and crossing his arms. Never mind the fact that he didn't _have_ information. He could cross that bridge when he came to it.

“Like what?” Wildfire definitely looked suspicious, and probably wasn't actually intending on answering anything he asked, but hey, it was better than a flat-out refusal.

“Your name, for starters. Because I really doubt it's Wildfire.” When the man stayed silent, he added, “I'm Mollymauk. Tealeaf.”

There was a sigh, and then, “Caleb. Caleb Widogast.”

“I sense a give-and-take relationship forming, darling.” That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Caleb scowled again.

“Do not mistake me to be your equal.” Wow. This guy was a little bit of a bitch. He continued, “I need to know. How are you immune to my fire?”

Ah. Molly, meet bridge. Bridge, meet Molly.

To be completely honest, Molly had no clue, but he wasn't about to tell Caleb that. Best-case scenario, the man believed him, but the worst (and most likely) scenario was that the man _didn't_ believe him and tortured him for information he didn't actually have. He decided to guess at random and hope that he was right. “I’m a tiefling, so my Infernal blood-”

Caleb interrupted him with a scowl. “I have killed many tieflings with no issue. It is not your blood. Not your race’s, in any case.”

Hm. Fuck.

“How does your fire work, anyway? Is it some kind of spell? Is it any physical contact, or-” Molly rambled, hoping to distract Caleb - Empire soldiers, in his experience, especially high-ranking ones like he was sure Caleb was, loved to talk about themselves and their prowess - but once more he was interrupted.

Caleb's eyes were on Molly's flickering tail as he spoke. “I am the one who asks the questions, not you.” He wrung his hands together, glancing around the room. “However, I suppose it cannot hurt… No, it is not a spell - that I know of. Whether it was cast on me at birth or something genetic, I do not know. And _ja_ , it is any physical contact. Anyone or anything that touches me is burned. Except you.” His eyes narrowed. “And I want you to tell me why.”

Damn, this guy was like a broken record. Molly had to think quickly. “Why do you do this?” He asked suddenly, and was rewarded with Caleb's eyes snapping towards him with renewed intensity.

“Do what?”

“All this…” Molly waved one hand. “Gladiator shite. And everything else you probably do.”

“It is my fate. This is my place in the world, and I am happy to accept it.” Caleb's voice was controlled, but Molly spotted small sparks flying from his fingertips.

“Sounds like a bullshit excuse,” Molly said before he could stop himself. The redhead's eyes narrowed at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Your fate is what you make of it. If you didn't want to, you wouldn't have to do _any_ of this. You could be a… a goddamn chef or something, I don't know!” Molly's tail lashed behind him as he spoke, feeling strangely protective of the sentiment.

Caleb surged forward, yanking off his glove, and slammed his hand onto the bed, narrowly missing Molly's leg - that was the point, he realized. A scare tactic. Probably meant for people the fire could actually _hurt_. It still hurt the bed, though, and Molly scrambled to avoid the small flames beginning to lick up the sheets, pulling his knees up to his chest. He had no idea if it would actually burn him, but he didn't really want to take that chance.

“I do not have a choice. This is my place. Everyone has one, and you should learn yours.” Caleb used the glove to beat the flames out before they spread, and tugged it back onto his hand. He stood again, his back ramrod-straight. “You have dodged the question long enough. I am not a very patient man.”

“You're just a dog of the Empire.” The words tumbled out of Molly in a snarl before he could stop himself, but he found he didn't regret them - even if it meant he'd get his ass kicked, it was worth it to see Caleb's expression. “Complacent. You could easily stop all the injustice, but you choose to remain blind.”

“I accept my place as a dog.” Caleb's voice was deadly quiet. “This is the role I was meant to play, and I will play it to the best of my ability. If I was meant to be a good person, I would not have _this_.” He tore off his glove once more, placing his palm flat on the stone wall. When he pulled it away, a blackened hand-shaped mark was left. “I will give you more time, but I expect your answer by tomorrow, or there _will_ be consequences. _Auf Wiedersehen_ , Mollymauk.” With that, he was slipping out of the door before Molly could move.

“Coward!” Molly called out to an empty room.

-

Caleb let out a long sigh, leaning against the door. The guards on either side glanced at him, maybe pulled a face or two - he was definitely not the most popular man around - but otherwise ignored him.

Damn. That hadn't gone well.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to keep his mind from spinning. All of those things the prisoner had said to him - those had to be lies, right? Lies meant to taint his mind, meant to make him disobey. There was no escaping from your place in the world, no matter how hard you tried.

And yet… Mollymauk had been so _passionate_ about those ideas, so convinced that _Caleb_ was the one at fault. That he had the ability to be someone better than he was, and simply _chose_ not to. Something about the tiefling's tone had made his heart twist, a small traitorous part of his mind pipe up and say _maybe he's right_.

No matter. A visit to Trent would help put his mind at ease. He was surprised the man hadn't sent for him yet, anyways; using the Champion's Shield like that was something he would definitely be punished for. Technically, he was forbidden by his mentor from using it at all, but he had done it without thinking. He had had the best of intentions, of course - to find out anything he could about immunity against his fire - but disobedience was disobedience, and disobedience meant punishment. At the very least, a punishment was what he needed right now. Something to clear his head, remind him of right and wrong.

He pulled away from the wall, beginning the trek towards Trent's chambers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> calebs an oversharing bastard but like.. thats just how it be sometimes
> 
> updates may be a bit slow for a while, im a dumbass and lost my glasses in the goddamn ocean so until i get them replaced i cant write for a long time without headaches


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly is unable to catch a break, and he and Caleb have a (much calmer) talk.

Molly woke to voices arguing above him. He held still, keeping his eyes closed, and tried to steady his breathing to sound like he was still asleep. For the moment, it seemed to work.

“We should just kill him right here-” one voice hissed.

“No, no! Master Ikithon said not to leave a mess, we have to kill him somewhere else,” insisted another.

“You two are too goddamn loud,” grumbled a third. “You're gonna wake him up.”

Okay. Shit. This wasn't good. Molly could barely fight one person at a time - three was a definite no-go, not to mention he was unarmed. He had yet to actually _see_ the group, but he had a feeling they had weapons.

His breathing must have sped up, because the third voice said, “shit! I think he's waking up.”

There was a clamor between the three, and Molly snapped his eyes open. He moved quickly, but not quickly enough - almost as soon as he had sat up, something struck the side of his head. Stars exploded across his vision, and he crumpled to the floor. Rough hands worked to bind his behind his back, followed by a gag being shoved in his mouth a moment later.

Through his blurred vision, he could somewhat make out the three figures hovering above him. Two humans and a half-elf, by the looks of it, and all men. One of the humans peered at him, frowning. “Can we blindfold him, too? His eyes are freaky.”

“They're just like any other tiefling's eyes,” the half-elf pointed out.

“Tieflings have creepy eyes, then.”

“We don't even have a blindfold!” The second human pointed out, which was followed by a scuffle, tearing sounds, and shouts of, “hey! This is my favorite shirt!”

“Now we do,” the first human crowed triumphantly, kneeling to tie a piece of cloth around Molly's eyes.

Well, this was just fantastic.

“What should we do now?”

There was a moment of silence, and then Molly heard the half-elf speak up. “We drown him in the fountain. That's probably the cleanest way. Then… then we leave the body in the woods. Let the scavengers take care of it. Warwick, you carry him. You're strongest.”

Then Molly was being picked up, roughly tossed over someone's shoulder. He kicked and squirmed, but was only rewarded with another blow to the face. After that, he stayed still, waiting anxiously as he heard the door open. Were there no guards? Or were they in on this? Whatever the case, no one intervened as he was carried down the prison hallway and up a set of stairs. There was a long period of silence, broken only by the sound of boots on stone, before another door creaked open.

Deliciously cool night air hit him, which was a nice reprieve from the stuffy prison air, but also unfortunately implied they were getting closer to the fountain. His guess was proven correct as not long after the person carrying him stopped, and his gag was removed.

Then he was being plunged into icy water, held down by impossibly strong arms.

-

Caleb sat on the low courtyard wall, staring at the flowers in the garden and doing his best to ignore how much his back stung. He had briefly considered going to the infirmary, but quickly decided against it - what was the point of a punishment if you healed the wounds right after?

This time, though, it didn't seem that the punishment had helped him much. His entire visit with Trent had felt… off, and no matter how much he tried to focus on his other tasks that evening, his thoughts kept drifting back towards it.

_Trent had been sitting at his desk, his back to the door, when Caleb had come in. He looked up, his expression unreadable. “What can I do for you, Caleb?”_

_“I-I wish to apologize.” Caleb lowered his eyes to the floor. “For using the Champion's Shield earlier.”_

_“Mhm.” He heard the chair Trent had been sitting in scrape against the floor. “And why_ did _you do that? Look me in the eye, boy,” he added with a slight snap to his voice._

_And so Caleb did, immediately shrinking into himself as he saw the disappointment in the older man’s eyes. “I want to know why my fire cannot hurt him. And if there are others like him, so that we can eliminate them.” When Trent still did not respond, he continued, “I wish to le-learn from him, and so I believe he is more valuable alive-”_

_“Enough.” Caleb stopped speaking immediately. “I think you're lying to me.”_

_“S-sir, I would not-”_

_“Silence. Do not make me repeat myself again.”_

_Caleb lapsed into a miserable sort of silence, bracing himself for Trent's words. Somehow the man's spoken disapproval was always worse than the physical punishments._

_“I think you're lying to me. I think you want someone you can touch. You crave love, but you will not receive it.” Trent's eyes burned into Caleb. “You are a monster. You are unlovable. You're very lucky I spend my time on you, making you of_ some _use to the Empire. Do not erase my hard work like this. Disobedience weakens the Empire. And disobedience..?”_

_“...means punishment,” Caleb finished automatically, out of habit._

_“Good boy.” Trent turned on his heel, striding towards the rack pushed against the back wall. “Let's begin, then.”_

Caleb was shaken out of his memories by a commotion. He squinted in the dark, spotting thanks to the torches scattered around the courtyard a struggle by the fountain. Three figures stood around it, and a fourth thrashed in the water, pinned by the largest of the first three.

He slid off of the short wall, moving swiftly but calmly, and doing his best to control his grimace each time his shirt rubbed against the lacerations on his back. “What is going on here?” He called out, and the three spun to face him. He recognized them immediately; Warwick and Siegfried, accompanied by Cormon. Trent’s newer apprentices. His heart sank as he caught a glimpse of the fourth figure - a peacock tattoo trailing up a purple neck, a tail lashing wildly. “Let go of him.”

Warwick immediately dropped Mollymauk, and Caleb hurried over to pull him out of the water. He hesitated for only a moment before remembering he could touch him, and carefully gripped his arms to drag him into a sitting position. Mollymauk spluttered and coughed, too preoccupied with breathing at the moment to speak.

“We're so sorry, Master Widogast!” Cormon bowed, his pointed elven ears laid flat to his head. Caleb didn't know much about body language, but he thought it might indicate distress. “But it's Master Ikithon's orders.”

“And _I_ order you to cease this.” Caleb sat behind Mollymauk, untying his wrists as he spoke, undoing the blindfold a second later. The tiefling slumped against him, still breathing raggedly, and he froze, his heart thumping its way up his throat. The feeling of Mollymauk against him was… was… he didn't how the fuck it felt. It was _different_.

The three apprentices traded glances, and once more Cormon spoke up, his ears twitching. “Uh, Master Ikithon… kind of outranks you? I mean no disrespect, of course, but…”

“I will bring it up with him later, and I will make sure to slip in that this is entirely my fault.” When the trio still hesitated, he added, “you should leave. Before I get angry.” That was enough to send them scrambling off, no doubt in fear of his flames. Sometimes a bad reputation had its perks.

Mollymauk shifted in Caleb's arms, and Caleb returned his attention to him - and realized with a start that the tiefling's shirt was beginning to catch fire where it pressed against his chest. “ _Scheiße_ , your shirt!” He took off a glove to attempt to beat the flames, but Mollymauk only let out a dry chuckle.

“No offence, Caleb, but I couldn't care less about my shirt right now.” His voice was raspy in a way that slightly turned Caleb on, but mostly made him worried. Just how much water had the tiefling swallowed? Maybe he should pump his chest? Since he couldn't really touch people, he had always learned in his first-aid classes that the best thing he could do for an injured person was stand back and let someone else handle it.

Before he could do anything, though, Mollymauk leaned back, pressing against him more deliberately this time. “Move closer, in fact. You're warm.” A soft sigh came from him, and again that _different_ feeling returned to Caleb. He couldn't remember the last time someone actually _wanted_ to touch him.

He could see now that Mollymauk was shivering, and he frowned. You were supposed to do something with someone's clothes when they were wet, so they didn't catch a cold - or worse. _Strip them,_ he remembered after a moment. “D-do you mind if I take off your shirt? So you do not freeze. I can get you a new-”

“Please,” Mollymauk interrupted.

“Okay. Um.” Caleb started to grab the fabric to pull it over Mollymauk's head, but it immediately caught fire. “Ah. That’s burning.”

Mollymauk let out a chuckle, before leaning forward slightly to quickly wrench the shirt over his head. He tossed it into the fountain, before leaning back against Caleb. “Better?”

They weren't the easiest to see in the dark - although the glow from his veins helped - but Caleb could see a _lot_ of tattoos. “Huh? O-oh, _ja_ , it is. Here, um…” he hesitantly wrapped his arms around Mollymauk, gently pulling the tiefling so that his back was flush against Caleb's chest. “Is this warmer?”

Mollymauk let out a hum, leaning his head back against Caleb's shoulder. “Much.” They were quiet for a few minutes before Mollymauk broke the silence. “If this is the consequence you talked about, I think it was a little extreme.”

“ _Nein_ , I did not do this-” suddenly remembering his conversation with Trent, he winced. “It… it _is_ my fault, but I did not think this would happen.”

Mollymauk let out a soft “hm,” before asking, “who's that Ikithon guy they mentioned?”

“My mentor. _Our_ mentor, I suppose, since they are also his apprentices - but they are very new.” New and eager to please. “Um- here, can you walk? We should not stay here much longer.” He helped Mollymauk up, once again gripping him by the forearms, but the moment he let go the tiefling stumbled, and he hurried to catch him again. “I will take that as a no. Uh… put your arm around my shoulder.”

“Everything's all spinny,” Mollymauk mumbled, and although Caleb wasn't sure what that meant, he did see now a rather nasty wound on his temple. So he'd been hit in the head, then. It sent an unexpected rush of anger through Caleb, and he wasn't sure why.

“What do you mean?” He asked as he gently guided Mollymauk through the courtyard, once more doing his best to hide his winces of pain. The guard at the door glanced over them, but at a glare from Caleb, he looked away.

“Like- it's like I'm _dizzy_ , or something.” The tiefling's head lolled against his shoulder.

“Funny, I do not see any little birds flying around your head.”

Mollymauk looked up at him, feigning a shocked expression. “Did you just make a joke?”

“No.”

“Damn shame. It was a good one, too.” Mollymauk shot him a fanged grin, and he couldn't help but smile in response. Then the smile turned into a grimace, and Mollymauk frowned. “You're hurt.”

“I am fine.” Caleb stared straight ahead as he walked, taking the path he'd memorized back to Mollymauk's cell. Then he hesitated. Leaving Mollymauk in his cell wasn't the best idea. What if Trent sent someone else to finish him off? He'd take him to his chambers, he decided - with that in mind, he turned, taking the path branching off to the right instead of going straight ahead.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his back, and he winced at the sudden contact against the wounds.

“You're not fine,” Mollymauk said pointedly.

“Of course it is going to hurt if you touch it.”

Mollymauk narrowed his eyes. “Look- hey, this isn't the path to my cell?” he asked as they emerged into a much nicer hall, and Caleb pulled him quickly through a side door.

“No, it is not. We have to hurry; you're not supposed to be here.”

The tiefling shot him a wry grin at that. “Why, Mister Caleb, are you breaking the rules?”

Caleb rolled his eyes as he led Mollymauk up the stairs, opening the door at the top to reveal a hall full of doors. “Do not make me regret it, Mister Mollymauk.” He fumbled with one hand for his key, shoving it into the keyhole of the third door on the left.

He sent up four globules of light as they entered, revealing a mostly tidy, un-lived in room besides the books scattered about - not that he could read any of them himself, but often he got Astrid or Eodwulf to read them to him. He led Mollymauk carefully to the bed before letting go of him.

Mollymauk sat, staring up at him with those pupiless crimson eyes that seemed to haunt him. “Let me see your wounds,” he said suddenly. “I'm no cleric, but my friend is, and I've picked up a few things from her.”

“No, that is fine-” Caleb started, but Mollymauk was already reaching out, grabbing his shirt and beginning to unbutton it. Again that _foreign_ feeling hit him. Out of habit, he stayed still as Mollymauk worked, only moving when the tiefling told him to turn around.

Mollymauk sucked in a breath behind him. “Gods. Who did this to you?”

“Trent. The Master Ikithon those three mentioned.” Caleb stood still and straight as Mollymauk studied him. “I was disobedient, so I was punished.”

“That… seems a little extreme.” Mollymauk paused, then added quietly, “you're going to be punished again for saving me. And for bringing me up here.”

Caleb nodded. “I am used to it. It will be fine.”

He could almost hear Mollymauk frowning. “Caleb-” he cursed under his breath. “I don't have any healing potions or salves or anything, but because of Infernal blood my hands would be warm? And could reduce the swelling?”

“There is no point in a punishment if I heal afterwards.” Not to mention Mollymauk's body was cold compared to Caleb's. Mollymauk started to argue, but he continued, “I could… do that for you, though.” He turned, studying the bruises and bumps on the tiefling's face. “Move your hair out of the way, so it doesn't burn?” He asked as he sat down beside him, pulling his gloves off. Mollymauk obeyed, and he gently pressed his palm to the worst injury, by his temple.

Caleb was aware, suddenly, that this gesture was usually intimate - he had often seen people cradle their lover's faces like this. He flushed slightly at the thought, but Mollymauk didn't seem to notice. The tiefling let out a soft sigh at the contact, reaching up to hold Caleb's hand against his face, and Caleb thought his heart was going to beat right out of his chest.

“That feels a lot better, thank you.” Mollymauk finally pulled away, and Caleb felt relieved, but at the same time, a little emptier. He chose to ignore it.

“Do you need that anywhere else?”

Mollymauk chuckled at that. “I'm good. You looked uncomfortable, anyway.”

“I- no, I was not uncomfortable, I just. Um. That was the first time I have touched someone that long without killing them, in… in… it was the first time I have touched someone that long without killing them,” he finished lamely.

Mollymauk stared at him for a long time, then let out a rumbling laugh that made Caleb's heart throb. “I see.” Then he turned serious. “Can I ask you something, Caleb?”

“It depends on what it is.”

“Do you get punished like that often?”

Hm. Caleb should have expected that. “When I deserve it.”

“No one deserves that.” Mollymauk said it so quietly he almost thought he had imagined it. “And one more question?” When Caleb nodded, he continued, “when you said this was your place in the world, who told you that?”

“I do not see where you're going with this.”

“Humor me.” Mollymauk insisted, and Caleb sighed.

“Trent did.”

The tiefling let out a hum, studying Caleb carefully. “I figured as much.”

“What is your point, exactly?”

Mollymauk studied him for a while longer, then said, “you're not gonna like it.”

“Mollymauk-”

“Please, call me Molly.” Molly blurted suddenly, looking almost surprised that he'd said that.

“ _Molly_ , if you have something to say, say it.”

“Don't get pissed,” Molly warned, “but have you considered that Trent maybe treats you just a little unfairly?”

“He treats me the same as all the others,” Caleb said softly, and before Molly could intervene he continued, “and it is more than I deserve. He took me in and guided me when no one else did.”

Molly was gazing at him with an expression of what could almost be called pity. “I see.” Then he cleared his throat. “So, what are we doing for sleeping arrangements?”

“You take the bed. I will take the floor,” Caleb decided immediately.

Molly frowned at him. “You're injured.”

“So are you,” he pointed out, standing up, but Molly grabbed his wrist.

“Then we should both take the bed.” When Caleb gave him a pointed look, he released his wrist. “I won't try anything funny. I just think it's important that you heal well.”

“No funny business,” Caleb repeated, and Molly grinned at him. “One more thing. I apologize in advance, but things are going to be much more difficult for you from now on. I will help you when I can, but _many_ people are going to try to kill you.”

“Being in prison wouldn't be any fun if they weren't,” Molly's reply was breezy enough, but the nervous twitch of his tail gave Caleb an inkling of his true feelings. “Can I ask you one more question?”

“You just did.”

“Very funny.” Molly stood as he spoke, peeling back the sheets of the bed - after glancing up to get a nod of approval from Caleb - to climb in. “Why are you helping me?”

Caleb froze. Why _was_ he helping Molly? Why was he risking so much for a tiefling he had known in a day? He had told himself it was for information, but he found himself not caring as much about that - not that he wasn't curious from a scientific standpoint, but that didn't explain the fear and anger when he had seen Molly hurt. The way he wanted to protect him no matter what it took. The way his heartbeat sped up when he thought of all the danger Molly was going to be in.

“I think you are worth the risk,” he said finally.

Molly let out a hum, and then said, “I know I said no funny business, but could you hold me again? It's cold in here.”

“You are no longer wet. I could just get you a shirt,” Caleb pointed out.

“Wow, first you make everyone want to kill me, and now you won't even cuddle me? It's like you _want_ me to die.” Molly scoffed.

Caleb bristled at that. “It was not my intention to-”

“It was a joke,” Molly intervened quickly. “A joke. Just forget I said anything.” With that, the tiefling rolled over, now facing the wall. He was motionless besides the occasional flick of his tail.

Hm. Caleb had the idea that he'd fucked up somehow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly has his next gladiator fight, and both he and Caleb pull some impulsive shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took me a lot longer than i wanted dfghld which like.. wasnt THAT long but long for my standards
> 
> also idr anyones spells and im too afraid to check the wiki since i havent listened to the new ep yet so

Molly stared at the wall for a long time, lost in his thoughts. He had never been one to fall asleep easily - even now, when he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, his mind was racing, his thoughts circling back to Caleb each time.

The man was… confusing, to say the least. First he tried to kill Molly, then he saved him - twice, if you counted the Champion's Shield. Thinking about it, Molly figured that that Trent guy was the root of the problem; from the sound of it, he had Caleb conditioned just so. Molly didn't enjoy feeling sympathetic to his captor, but he found it hard to hate Caleb knowing everything that had been done and said to him.

No. Not everything. If Molly's suspicions were right, that was barely the tip of the iceberg - and that made Molly's heart _hurt_ , thinking of Caleb being beaten and put down and who knew what else over any little thing.

But… maybe he could help Caleb. The human certainly seemed convinced that nothing awful was going on, but Molly could work at it. And then-

-and then what? They could kill Trent? They could escape? Escape seemed more likely, considering Trent was probably a powerful man within the Empire and could kill them both easily, but Caleb had been here for… fuck, Molly didn't even know how long. If he had been Trent's apprentice, probably a long time. Would he really leave his home so easily?

He fell asleep on these thoughts, and they plagued him - nightmares of whips and shouting and being torn apart by magic, until he felt warm arms slowly wrap around him.

“You were… mumbling and twitching. Having a nightmare, it looked like,” came the soft, accented voice somewhere behind him.

“Oh. Sorry if I woke you,” Molly mumbled, relaxing in Caleb's grip. He was too sleepy to register much - the only thought that came to his mind was how pleasant the heat radiating off of Caleb felt, like sitting in front of a campfire on a cold night. He thought he heard Caleb mumble a response, but he was already drifting off again.

When he woke next, it was because Caleb was shaking him awake. The man had slept in his clothes, apparently having pulled his shirt back on at some point, and hadn't taken out his ponytail, by the looks of it - it was even messier than before, with several strands hanging out of place. “We should go back to your cell, before too many people find out you're gone. The guards probably figured you were dead, but…”

Molly groaned, burying his face in the pillow. “Will you still be there? I'm pretty sure you said you didn't want to leave me alone.”

“I… will stay as long as I can, but I have other duties to attend to, and I am sure many people would not like it if I dragged you around with me.” Caleb nudged his shoulder, hesitantly at first but harder when he still didn't stir.

“It's not like they can do anything about it,” Molly waved one hand dismissively. “You've got your fire powers. Burn 'em to a crisp if they try to mess with you.”

“If I burned everyone I did not like to a crisp, there would not be many people left in the Empire.”

“Sounds ideal to me.” Molly finally sat up, brushing a stray curl out of his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Caleb look him up and down. “See something you like?”

“We should find you a shirt,” was all Caleb said in response, but if Molly wasn't mistaken, he saw the man's cheeks flush a slight pink. Caleb moved towards the rather sparsely populated closet, frowning. “Most of my clothing is not suitable for a prisoner.”

“How do you wear clothes, anyway, with your fire?” Molly asked, studying Caleb more closely. The man's clothes didn't have any scorch marks on them at all, now that he thought about it.

Caleb didn't look up. “I know a few fireproofing spells. They do not work on everything, though, and are very taxing.”

“Do they work on hair?” Molly asked, and when Caleb gave him a strange look, he explained, “I can pull off a lot of looks, but bald isn't one of them.”

Was it just his imagination, or had Caleb cracked a smile? “I can try it. Not right now, though.” He let out a hum. “Would you mind going shirtless for now? I can find you something later, but…”

“Fine with me. And I'm sure everyone else will enjoy it.” Molly winked at Caleb, earning a sort of startled noise, and finally pulled himself out of bed. “Let's go, then?”

Caleb nodded. “Let's go,” he repeated, in more of a sigh than anything. “There will be more people out than before, so just keep your head low and try not to draw-” he dropped off, glancing over Molly. “You're purple. You're going to draw attention. Just keep your head low and… and stay close to me,” he amended.

“Lavender,” Molly corrected.

“What?”

“I'm lavender. Not purple.”

“La-lavender is a shade of..?” Caleb broke off when he saw Molly's teasing grin. “Ah. You are joking.”

“Indeed I am.” Molly flashed him another fanged smile, and he looked away; maybe it was just the lighting, but the human _did_ seem a little redder. Of course, he always looked a little reddish-orange thanks to the fiery glow that poured out of him - it reminded Molly of those salt lamps he had once seen in a trinket store, where the light shone through the hardened salt - but still… he was almost definitely blushing.

Molly found that he liked it.

Before he could tease any further, though, Caleb was opening the door and beckoning him to follow. And so he did, sticking close to the man's side and keeping his eyes trained on the floor. They made it through easy enough - with Caleb's “I have somewhere to be” stride and the pointed looks he gave to anyone who stepped forward to interrupt, they weren't challenged at all.

Until they reached Molly's cell.

An older man waited in front, looking somewhat bored. He was bald on top, with greasy grey hair trailing down from the sides. He wore elegant robes, although Molly noticed with a twist in his stomach that there were spatters of blood on them. Caleb saw him and swore, tugging Molly back behind the corner they had just rounded.

“Do not say or do anything. Let me do the talking.” Caleb sounded even more anxious than normal.

“I thought I was doing that already? I did a pretty good job of it, too,” Molly tried to lighten the mood, but Caleb only gave him a weak glare.

“Please. For your own safety, keep your mouth shut.” Molly wanted to argue, but the look on Caleb's face told him now was not the time. He nodded, and Caleb's shoulders relaxed a tad. “Good. Eyes down, mouth shut, stay close to me,” he repeated, before taking a shuddering breath, straightening his ponytail, and standing up a little straighter, shoulders back. Then he marched back towards the cell, with Molly trailing behind him.

The older man noticed them immediately, turning and waiting for them to come closer. “Caleb. I was wondering when you'd arrive.” His voice was clipped, and the way he looked the redhead up and down, you'd have thought he was a piece of meat. This was Trent, Molly suddenly realized.

The same Trent who'd abused Caleb in the name of the Empire, beating any semblance of free will out of him, convincing him he was nothing more than the fire that flowed through his veins.

 _That_ fact made it significantly harder for Molly to sit passively, but he forced himself to unclench his fists as Caleb caught his eye and gave a slight shake of the head.

“I am here now, sir.” Caleb gave a small, stiff bow.

“So you are. And with the missing prisoner, I see.” Trent barely looked at Molly, which was probably for the best, since it was taking all of Molly's restraint to keep a neutral expression.

Caleb hesitated only for a moment. “I found him in the fountain. It would not do to have him drown.” Gods, Molly hated how blank and lifeless Caleb looked - the only emotion at all on his face was _misery_.

“You can study a corpse as easily as you can someone living. Unless that's not why you're keeping him alive.” Trent's tone suggested- Molly wasn't sure what it suggested, but Caleb's expression told him this wasn't the first time the topic had come up. “No matter, though. I hear he's scheduled for another fight in the arena today. An orc barbarian, by the looks of it. And no Champion's Shield to save him this time.” Caleb nodded, and the man leaned in closer, to whisper something only he could hear.

Caleb nodded again, fear momentarily slipping onto his face before the blank expression returned, and the man straightened. “I will see you soon, then.” With that, he was walking briskly down the hall.

“Caleb?” Molly stepped forward, gently gripping his arm - and immediately letting go when the guards by the cell drew their spears.

“I have to go now.” Caleb wouldn't look him in the eye. “Um, I will be in the crowds when you fight.” Then suddenly he was looking up and leaning forward, his lips gently grazing Molly's cheek - he pulled away just as fast. “I-I am sorry I cannot help you. Goodbye, Molly.”

“What? Wait!” Molly called out, but Caleb was already breezing down the same hallway Trent had gone down.

-

Molly spent the next few- fuck, who cared how long it was? He sulked in his cell for what _felt_ like hours on end, pissed at Caleb and worried for Caleb and for himself and hell, he was pissed at himself too, for getting himself into this goddamn situation. If he had just been a _little_ more careful with who he gave information to… but it was far too late to think on that now.

He had no idea who he was facing off against this time, but judging by Caleb's reaction, the odds of him facing them and coming out of it alive seemed slim. He couldn't even find it in him to be insulted by the notion that he had no chance, because damn it, Caleb was probably _right_. He was a shitty fucking fighter and that was what had landed him in this mess in the first place.

And what the _fuck_ had that kiss on the cheek been for?

He was still brooding when his guards came in, seizing him once more by the arms - he snapped, “I can walk by myself!”, his tail lashing by his feet, but his captors didn't react, dragging him through the halls regardless. They released him only by the same old weapons rack, where he grabbed the same two scimitars.

Then the gate was raising - apparently there had been no fight before his to wait on this time - and he was being shoved through, into the blistering heat.

He studied the arena again as the gate clanged shut behind him. It was the same as it had been before - the same bloodstains, the same scorch marks, the same crackling energy that made the entire arena feel electric. The crowd was roaring, and although he couldn't make out many of the faces, Caleb was easy to spot. No one else had an entire section of the seating to themselves, save for two people who stood near him and appeared to be talking to him, although they didn't touch him.

He leaned over the railing when he saw Molly, and Molly gave him a small wave - but Caleb only shook his head and pointed at the gate opposite Molly, where his opponent was now appearing.

His stomach dropped.

The orc before Molly could hardly be called an orc - he was a _beast_ , a towering mass of green muscle, and tusks that looked ready to gouge Molly to death. Scars covered his body, but unlike Molly's, _his_ scars were likely mostly from battle, rather than from activating weapons.

Speaking of which, it was probably a good idea to do that now - Molly quickly ran his swords over the back of his neck, hardly wincing from the bite of it anymore, and was rewarded with an icy blue glow radiating from them. At least he had that going for him.

He could barely hear the announcer over all the cheering, and wasn't even aware the battle was starting until the gong rang out - then the orc was rushing at him with surprising speed for his size, arcing his battleax down towards Molly. Molly raised one scimitar to block, which was a _huge_ mistake; the resulting impact made it feel like his arm was two steps from shattering. He hurried back a few paces, the next ax swing grazing his side and _oh gods that fucking hurt_.

Okay. Okay. So this wasn't turning out so well. He had a gash in his side and his arm hurt like hell, and it was barely two minutes in. This was fine.

This was _not_ fine, he decided, as he just barely managed to avoid being decapitated on the next strike. “Can we talk about this?” He tried as he dodged the next blow, and only received a grunt in response. Okay. Not a talker, then.

He'd have to start fighting back at some point, he realized, but it was all he could do to avoid being killed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Caleb rummaging through his coat pockets and- and rubbing his lips? Was this really the right time to be applying chapstick?

But then the orc slowed down - halted, almost, where he stood mid-swing. Molly took the chance to hack and slash at him, landing some decent blows. One wide gash down his neck, although not enough to decapitate him, unfortunately, and one across his gut. But then he was moving again, and Molly cursed, backing up rapidly. Of course he had such a ridiculously hard opponent to kill.

Then he was being knocked on his ass as the flat end of the ax struck his chest. He sprawled flat on the ground, helpless as the blade arced down towards his face. Everything was moving in slow motion, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Caleb-

-vaulting over the railing? The human fell, unhurt - maybe he had used a spell, Molly didn't know, he had never been the magic type - and then he was _tackling_ the orc. The stench of burning flesh was downright _awful_ , but he didn't care because Caleb was _here_ and… and probably in deep shit now, Molly realized, as he saw guards start to advance into the arena. Slowly, probably afraid of touching Caleb, but they moved forward nonetheless.

And Caleb was injured, he realized belatedly. Whatever it was was beneath his clothes, but he walked like every movement was painful. This seemed like it had happened before the fight, though.

Molly thought fast, scrambling to his feet and dragging Caleb up with him. This was a stupid fucking plan, but hey, sometimes his stupid fucking plans worked out. He let out a whisper of "stay calm," and then he was pulling Caleb's back flush against his chest, pressing one scimitar to the human’s throat.

“Anyone moves and I kill him!” He declared in a snarl to the arena, his tail lashing behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fantasy salt lamps. fuck yeah
> 
> i feel like this moves too fast but yknow


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They explore the sewers, and Caleb gets an impromptu haircut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two updates in a day... its like 2 am so excuse all the errors there probably are im just impatient
> 
> alt chapter title: caleb and the terrible horrible no good very bad day

To say Caleb was in a lot of pain was an understatement. His entire body _ached_ , and the lacerations from his last punishment - which were still there and rubbing uncomfortably against his shirt - were _nothing_ compared to today's. The only reason he was as mobile as he was now was because Trent had wanted him to watch this.

And Trent was now standing, appearing to be preparing to cast a spell of some sort, but from his distance, there was no way to hit Molly without hitting Caleb. Astrid and Eodwulf, meanwhile, were leaning dangerously far over the railing, waving and shouting to Caleb - _what_ they were shouting, though, he had no clue.

“ _What the fuck are you doing?_ ” He hissed to Molly, the motion of speaking making the blade bob slightly against his throat.

“ _Trust me,_ ” Molly hissed back, then raised his voice to address the arena. “I'm going to leave, and none of you are going to stop me unless you want him,” he pulled Caleb closer, if that was even possible, and shifted the scimitar, “to get it.”

All of the guards rushing in had halted, and were now looking at each other with mixed expressions - they would probably have been happy to let Caleb die, but of course, that would piss more than a few higher-ups off. He was _valuable_. A tool to be used. And that was what Molly was doing now, he realized. _Using_ him.

And it _hurt_. Gods, Caleb was so stupid to get attached to a man he barely knew, and a _traitor_ no less. But he had let Molly's honeyed words get to him, let the tiefling make him believe he was something more than he was, someone to be cared about, and now he was paying the price.

He was jerked out of his thoughts as Molly gently pressed down on his chest, where one cold lavender arm was holding him in place. “Start backing up.” Caleb shuddered, with Molly's mouth so close to his ear. He did as commanded, shuffling slowly back, ignoring how his body groaned in pain. “What’s the quickest way out?”

Caleb hesitated, for one selfish moment. If Molly was caught, he'd have to stay here - stay with _Caleb_. But besides the obvious danger he'd be in, that wasn't _right_. Molly was a… well, Caleb hadn't met enough good people for a comparison, but he was certainly a breath of fresh air in comparison to most in the employment of the Empire. He didn't deserve to be trapped here just because Caleb was lonely.

And if Caleb had to be left behind so one good man could escape, that was fine with him.

“Through the gate behind us, on the opposite of the weapons rack, there is a- a sort of sewer system, where they take the bodies.” He licked his lips, idly noting the lingering taste of molasses. “It should lead somewhere outside, I believe.”

“You don't know?” Molly asked incredulously, and then they stopped for a moment - after a shouted threat, though, and another wiggle of the blade against Caleb's neck, the gate behind them raised. Then they were moving again. “This way?”

“ _Ja_ , this way. Why would I go into a sewer with a bunch of dead bodies?”

“Fair point.”

It was then that they rounded a slight corner, spotting a grate on the ground. Molly released him, crouching quickly to shift it to the side. Then he straightened, making a sweeping gesture. “After you?”

“I'm going with you?”

Molly quirked an eyebrow. “Why wouldn't you? I figured after that little stunt, we were in this together?”

“I did not want to see you die, but…” Caleb took a deep breath. “Mollymauk, my life is here. I cannot leave.”

“Sure you can!” Molly gave him a grin, but sobered when he saw Caleb's expression. “I can't just leave you here. Not with Trent.”

“Trent is a good man. He has done a lot for me-”

“Quit bullshitting yourself, Caleb!” Molly snapped suddenly, his tail whipping back and forth and stirring a large amount of dust. “He's fucking awful, and he's done nothing but hurt you, and- and we can talk about this later, but we need to leave _now_ and you're going to be in a whole fucking _world_ of trouble if they catch you now!”

Caleb wanted to argue, but there were footsteps pounding after them, and he found it was all he could do to hold onto himself - this was no time to lose himself like he was prone to doing, to floating off and just _leaving_ for a couple hours. He nodded mutely, letting Molly help him down the ladder; the tiefling tossed his scimitars down with a clatter and quickly followed them. He barely registered the shouting and sound of the boots above them as Molly pulled the grate back over them.

“You're hurt.” Molly's voice was much gentler this time, as he half-dragged Caleb along. It was painful, but Caleb understood - they had to lose the soldiers as quickly as possible. Although he couldn't hear anyone coming down the ladder yet, it was only a matter of time.

“So are you.” It took what felt like was all of Caleb's energy to force himself to speak. “You are still bleeding, I… I could try to cauterize it?” He held up one hand, but Molly gently pushed it back down.

“Later. We should keep moving.”

Molly's arm lingered on Caleb's, keeping him there as they trudged through a maze filled with some kind of sludge - he didn't know what it was, and he didn't _want_ to know. Miraculously, it didn't catch fire, maybe because of how damp it was, or because Caleb's boots were fireproof enough. Sometimes he burned through if he exerted enough pressure, but now did not appear to be that time. There were no torches or the like to light the way, but the glow radiating from him helped somewhat, and Molly, he assumed, had darkvision, being a tiefling.

They were silent for most of their trek, until Molly asked, “so, do you want to talk about why you kissed me on the cheek?” Caleb only shook his head, and Molly gave a playful sigh. “That's fair. But I'm not letting it go.”

A while longer, and Molly was talking again. “I don't mind if you don't talk, but can I? I kind of really hate silence,” he chuckled, and beamed when Caleb nodded. It was soothing, anyways, his lilting voice helping keep Caleb grounded.

He talked about anything and everything. His friends, how much he regretted not looking for his things before they left (Caleb decided not to tell him that all personal effects were burned or sold), that he had apparently traveled with a circus for a few years… nothing about his past before the circus, Caleb noticed, but that was fine.

After what Caleb's internal clock told him had been three and a half hours, Molly asked, “should we make some sort of camp soon? Because I have no idea when these sewers end, and I don't think those soldiers are still looking for us.”

Caleb had finally recovered enough to speak. “By now they will have surrounded all exits, but they probably will have left the actual sewers by now.” He wrinkled his nose. “There are not really any places to sleep, though.”

Molly chuckled. “I forgot you’re from the Empire. Probably not used to roughing it.”

“I can rough it if I choose to,” Caleb argued, although he had no experience whatsoever roughing it - when he had trained with the soldiers briefly, he had slept outdoors with them, but after 'accidentally’ setting their equipment on fire one too many times he had been sent back to continue his training under Trent.

“Great. You should have no problem right here, then?” Molly smirked at him, before promptly plopping down right where he stood.

“None at all.” Caleb followed suit, hiding a grimace as he sat down directly in a pile of muck.

Molly grinned even wider, before shifting so that the two sat side by side, leaning in to bump his shoulder against Caleb's. “So, how do you wanna do this? Should one of us keep watch?”

“I do not think that will be necessary. And I am sure we are both very tired.” Caleb closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. “I am so hungry.”

“Me too. I haven't eaten since…” Molly paused, seemingly thinking. “Dinner yesterday, I think? Not that that was anything but slop.” That made Caleb feel a little guilty, since his last meal had been shortly before the fight, but he kept his mouth shut. “Once we get out of here, we should find something. Hopefully this leads into the woods… oh, I guess the woods are pretty flammable? We'll have to figure out where to hide you...” Molly appeared to be rambling more to himself than anything. Caleb was almost relaxed until he added, “ready to talk about that kiss yet?”

Caleb elbowed Molly gently - and was hit with a strange sense of giddiness. He could _do_ that. It was such a simple gesture, one he'd seen done thousands of times, but he'd never been able to actually do it himself. “ _Gute Nacht_ , Mollymauk.”

“That rhymed,” Molly chuckled. “Fine. 'Night, Caleb.” His lips brushed the top of Caleb's head.

-

When Caleb woke, his neck was sore as hell - apparently at some point, his head had dropped onto Molly's shoulder. The tiefling in question was still snoring, a strangely blissful look on his face considering they were asleep in the goddamn sewers.

The sewers. They were in the goddamn sewers. It all came flooding back to Caleb, how he'd kissed Molly on the cheek and jumped into the arena and ran and he'd be punished so badly and-

-his sped-up breathing must have woken Molly. The tiefling stirred beside him, gently resting a clawed hand on his shoulder. “Caleb, are you alright? Head between your knees, dear,” he instructed, gently guiding Caleb into a kneeling position.

Caleb spent several moments like that, breathing as slowly and deeply as possible. “I need to go back. Trent will be angry, but maybe if I do it fast enough he will forgive me and-” he froze as Molly brushed a strand of hair out of his face. Gods, he hated the tiefling's pitying expression.

“Caleb,” Molly said gently, “you don't need his forgiveness. If anything, he should be asking _you_ to forgive _him_.”

“ _Nein_ , no, he has given me so much and-and I've been so disobedient and I am terrible and-” and then Molly was pulling him close, cradling Caleb's upper body against his chest.

“I know it's hard for you to hear right now, and for you to understand, and I'm sorry to do it like this, but..." Molly sighed. "Listen. Don't go back to him. Please.” Caleb felt the vibrations of Molly's words rumbling through his chest. “You don't have to stay with me if you don't want to, just… don't go back.”

It took Caleb all he had to just focus on breathing, to try and center himself. Above him, he head Molly talking softly to him, and although he barely understood the words, they were comforting. Just as comforting as Trent's harsh punishments had been.

To him, when it came to comfort, Molly and Trent were two extremes - Molly was all gentle reassurances and soft touches, and Trent was physical and verbal reprimands, keeping him in line and allowing him to atone for his wrongs. Molly was free thoughts, but with Trent, he didn't _have_ to think. He just had to follow orders. There was a clear black-and-white, a sharp, solid line that showed the difference between right and wrong. Molly, using the same metaphor, was all blurred lines and bright colors - there was no clear direction, no set right and wrong. And yet, Caleb found himself almost _enjoying_ that. He curled closer to the tiefling, taking in the soft touch and gentle words that he'd never before been given.

Molly's hand, he noticed dimly, was running through his hair. The tiefling had taken the hair tie out at some point and was toying with the strands, gently untangling it by hand.

“I want it cut,” he finally managed.

“Hm?” Molly's hand stopped in place.

“My hair. I want it cut off.”

“If you just don't want it touched, I-” Molly pulled away his hand as he spoke.

Caleb shook his head. “It- it is too much to explain, but it is personal.” How to explain that it was a result of his time serving under Trent, how he had kept it because it was the one part of him that could be touched without burning - and how that had been used to others’ advantages?

Molly let out a hum, reaching for one of the scimitars he had dropped nearby. “I can do that, but are you sure?”

“ _Ja_ , I am sure. Please, Molly.” Caleb nodded, giving a small sigh of relief as Molly reached out to gently grip his hair.

“Where do you want it cut to?” Caleb leaned forward to give him easy access, and indicated the nape of his neck. “Okay. One last chance to back out?”

“Just do it.”

Molly chuckled. “Fine. Here we go.”

Molly was careful as he worked, not once nicking Caleb with the blade. Caleb sat patiently still, stirring slightly when his head suddenly felt a lot lighter - but Molly chided him gently, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I just need to even it out, make it look nice.”

“I do not care about looking nice,” Caleb stated, but allowed him to continue cutting.

Finally, Molly set the blade down, before standing - guiding Caleb up beside him - and brushing the mass of reddish-orange hair off of himself. “So, how do you feel?”

Caleb took a deep breath, then nodded. “Good. I feel good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> technically in a military setting hair is the opposite / kept short but no one tells the president what to do


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They escape the sewers, and Caleb runs into some familiar faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took like.. forever to write for some fucking reason. enjoy tho
> 
> also as a forewarning i didnt bother to look up if there are any actual fireproofing spells i just made that shit up on the fly

Caleb felt good for about two minutes, and then the panic set in. _Oh gods what did I do he's going to kill me he's_ -

-he relaxed into the hug Molly gently pulled him into, felt the tiefling gently fluff his now much shorter hair.

“You're alright. I'm proud of you,” Molly murmured, and Caleb slowly, carefully returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Molly's waist and pressing his face into the tiefling's chest, and was rewarded with a slight squeeze. “Ready to tell me about the-”

“Enough about the kiss,” Caleb mumbled - mumbled into Molly's bare skin, he realized, since the tiefling was still shirtless. “I just… I thought you were going to die. I didn't want you to die without… without doing _something_.” He chuckled drily. “I did not want you to die at all, of course, but at the time it seemed inevitable.”

“Do you regret it?” The soft question was enough to make him look up. Molly's expression was hard to read. “Because I quite enjoyed it, actually. So if you'd like…” Molly hummed. “We could go further?”

Caleb stiffened. This was what he had wanted, right? To touch and be touched, to live just like everyone else did. And Molly - he definitely had no objections with doing any of that with Molly. But… “Could this wait until we get outside? It is- on top of everything else, it is too much right now.”

Molly shrugged. “Of course. So, does this mean you  _are_ coming with me once we get outside?” Maybe it was Caleb's lonely side speaking, but he thought he heard a tinge of hope in Molly's voice.

“If you will have me.” Putting aside the factor of whether or not Caleb _liked_ Molly, the tiefling was the only remnant of his old life now - granted, a very recent addition to his old life, but he didn't want to leave _everything_ behind.

Molly's smile outshone the sun, he mused as the tiefling grinned at him, reaching down to entangle their hands and squeeze Caleb's. “That's great!” Then he dropped Caleb's hand, and Caleb almost whined at the loss of contact. “Let's get moving, then, shall we?”

“Ah, your wound, though.” Caleb gestured at the gash in Molly's side. “Should I cauterize it now?”

Molly hesitated, then nodded. “Probably should. Uh, will it hur-” he let out a strangled grunt of pain as Caleb touched it, and the redhead jerked his hand away instantly.

“Too much?”

Molly shook his head. “No, no, it's fine. Just caught me off-guard. Probably should be done, anyway, before it gets infected.”

Caleb nodded, taking a breath to steel himself, and pressed his palm to the open wound once more. Molly made another strangled noise, reaching out to grip Caleb's free hand - he allowed the action, wincing slightly as Molly's claws dug into his flesh. He pulled away when the wound has closed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah- yeah, I'm good.” Molly straightened. “What about you? You're still hurt, aren't you?” His eyes narrowed as he seemingly registered something. “From another punishment, I assume?”

“I will be fine.” Caleb shifted awkwardly under Molly's gaze, now refusing to look him in the eye.

“You're getting your injuries treated the moment we find a cleric,” Molly warned. “I'll hold you down if I have to.”

Caleb wanted to argue - it was a _punishment_ , you weren't supposed to just magic it away - but he pursed his lips and nodded. They could argue about that later. Molly would only get angry at Trent again, and Caleb couldn't deal with hearing that right now; he had enough swarming through his head as it was.

“Good. Now, let's get moving.” With one hand on Caleb's forearm, as before, Molly started to lead them through the sewers once more.

The next few hours passed uneventfully. Caleb was lost in his thoughts, but occasionally Molly would tug on his arm or pull him closer if he thought too hard. The most action they saw was when they encountered a pack of rats, but they were dispatched easily enough with a few fireballs and sword slashes.

Their next hurdle was when they found the sewer grate.

“I do not know where it leads,” Caleb warned as they approached it. “There is definitely one that leads outside, but…" he shrugged. "And either way, I have no doubt we will have to fight our way out.”

Molly nodded. “I'll go first,” he decided, and was already shimmying up the ladder before Caleb could react, one scimitar between his teeth and one clutched in his hand - which definitely made the ladder slow going. At the top, he shoved against the grate; it rattled but didn't budge. After a second, though, it slid open.

Then Molly was being pulled upwards, disappearing with a shout.

“Molly!” Caleb scaled the ladder as quickly as he could, cursing when he gripped the rungs too hard and they began to melt in his hands.

“Caleb?”

A familiar face poked over the edge - Eodwulf’s eyes met his, and his friend momentarily reached out to help him up before quickly retracting. “Ah, right.”

Caleb finished the short climb quickly, and studied their surroundings; they were in the woods somewhere outside the castle - he'd never been this far outside, he realized, except for the plains - and he could hear a stream trickling somewhere nearby. It was midday now, and in all honesty, it should _not_ have taken them that long to get out here, but they had taken so many twists and turns and probably circled back dozens of times. His memory was good, yes, but it was unhelpful when everything looked the exact same.

The next thing he saw was Astrid pinning Molly down. The tiefling had been forced onto his stomach, and she straddled him, using one arm to force his face into the ground and the other to hold his wrists together. His weapons had been tossed to the side, but were easy to spot - they glinted almost blindingly in the sunlight. He writhed in her grip and shouted obscenities, but she barely seemed to notice, looking up at Caleb with a startled but pleased grin. “Caleb! I'm glad you're alive- what the fuck did he do to your hair?”

“I asked him to… um, please let go of him.” This was… definitely a complication Caleb should've expected. He was okay with dispatching nameless, faceless guards - at least, that was what he told himself - but these were his  _friends_.

Eodwulf arched an eyebrow. “Caleb, you know he kidnapped you, right?”

“I didn't kidnap-” Mollymauk was cut off as Astrid shoved his face back into the dirt.

“Quit talking before I cut out your tongue, traitor.”

Huh. Astrid was much better at intimidation than Caleb was. If it had been any other time, he would have been taking notes - mentally, of course, since he couldn't hold paper.

Before Caleb could defend either of them, Eodwulf was talking again. “Look, come back with us. We'll turn him in, and maybe if we explain that he was brainwashing you, Trent won't be as pissed.”

“He was not brainwashing me.” Caleb hated how his voice shook.

Astrid pitched in this time, her voice and expression uncharacteristically gentle. “Of course he was, Caleb. Why else would you leave? With a traitor? _You_ , especially.” Caleb's head was spinning. Why _was_ he doing this? “The outside world holds nothing for you. Come back with us, _please_. Everything can go back to normal.”

Normal. That was all Caleb wanted, right? He didn't want to be plunged into some terrifying new world he knew nothing about, when he _knew_ what to expect here. And yet…

Something about the pitying looks Astrid and Eodwulf gave him, the panicked way Molly was staring at him - it all _got_ to him. He was _tired_ of all the fire and the violence and the punishments. Maybe wherever he went would be worse, but what if it was better?

“We are going to leave. Both of us,” he nodded at Molly. “I do not want to have to hurt you two.”

“We don't want to have to hurt you, either.” Eodwulf's hand was straying to the hammer strapped to his side, but he was interrupted by Astrid.

“You get a day to change your mind. Twenty-four hours. Either you bring him back as a prisoner, or we consider you a traitor to the Empire and we treat you as such.” She released Molly as she spoke, but not with one last swift kick to his gut. “We're doing this for _you_ , Caleb, because we're your friends. You should be careful not to make enemies of us.”

“Thank you.” Some of the tension left Caleb's shoulders.

She gave him a stiff nod, then beckoned to Eodwulf, who sighed. “Goodbye, Caleb.”

“Goodbye, Eodwulf. Goodbye, Astrid,” he added, but she barely glanced at him as she strode off, presumably back towards their home.

The home Caleb would never be returning to.

“Uh, Caleb, a little help?” He saw Molly propped up on one elbow, clutching where Astrid had kicked him - gods, that was a nasty bruise. At least she hadn't kicked the wound they'd just cauterized.

“ _Ja_ , _ja_ , sorry.” Caleb hurried to help him up, looping one of Molly's arms around his neck, so that he supported the tiefling's weight. “We should get moving. Those two are- well, all three of us were chosen because we were the best of the best. They will not give in easily.”

“Do they have powers like yours?” Molly moved surprisingly fast, although it wasn't without small grunts of pain. “ _Gods_ , that bitch kicks hard.” He glanced at Caleb. “Sorry, I guess she's your friend? Not bitch, uh-”

“No, she is a bitch sometimes.” Caleb wasn't sure why Molly laughed, since he hadn't made a joke, but the sound created a nice bubbling feeling in his chest. “That was Astrid, and the other was Eodwulf. They do not have the- the fire, but they are both extremely talented mages.” He paused, cursing. “And they have scrying magic. They and Trent all do.”

“Fuck. Okay, any way to block scrying magic?”

Caleb hesitated, then nodded. “It is not cheap, though.”

Molly took a deep breath. “Alright. Uh, do you have any money?”

“It melts when I touch it,” Caleb pointed out.

“Yeah. That would make it hard. Fuck. Okay, uh… my organization has a lot of gold,” he said slowly, “but I don't know how to get there without leading them to it.”

The rebel organization that Molly led. The one the Empire hadn't been able to find since it had started - Caleb would be a hero if he led everyone to it. Again he had to squash down that thought. Molly was his friend, and he wouldn't betray him.

“Do you think we could get there within twenty-four hours?” Caleb asked, and when Molly gave him a sharp look, he added, “they are honorable people. They will hold to their word.”

Molly sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Maybe? I have no idea where we are, though. If we can find a town, I can figure out a path from there, but…” he shrugged. “For all I know, we could be going in the completely wrong direction.”

“We will deal with that when we come to it. Let's just… go straight, for now. There has to be an end to these woods at some point.” Caleb hoped it was soon - he felt quite literally like a spark in a powder keg right now. It seemed his clothes were enough of a barrier at the moment to keep the forest from going up in flames, and he thanked the gods there had been no dry spell this year. Dry, extra flammable vegetation was the last thing he needed.

-

If there was an end to the woods, they didn't reach it that night - after several hours Molly finally sighed and said, “can we camp here? My side is _killing_ me.”

Caleb was itching to keep going, but he nodded. Night was falling, anyways. With the thick leaf cover miles above them, there was no moonlight to guide him. “Could you clear away the leaves?”

Molly nodded, and let go of Caleb - he supported himself on a tree trunk as he kicked away leaves to form a decently-sized clearing that they could sleep in. “Should we make a fire? That way you can keep watch, too; because I think we _should_ keep watch tonight. I know you trust your friends, but...”

“That is fair. _Ja_ , we can make a fire. Can you gather the kindling?”

Molly rolled his eyes. “Making me do _all_ the heavy lifting… joking, I'm joking!” he added as he saw Caleb's expression.

They got the fire started quickly - Molly dumped a bundle of sticks in the center of their clearing and Caleb sat down, reaching over to touch one and ignite it. “I will keep watch first,” Caleb announced. “You should rest. I will wake you in a few hours.”

“Don't know how I'll be able to sleep with my side like this,” Molly mumbled, then sighed. “Okay. Can I at least cuddle up to you, though? These woods are _cold_.”

Caleb felt just fine, but then again, his internal temperature was probably a _lot_ hotter. “I suppose that is preferable to you freezing to death,” he admitted, and Molly clapped, his tail swishing through the dirt as he did - Caleb found himself staring at it, and Molly caught him with a grin.

“You can touch it, if you want.”

“I-” Caleb flushed, looking away. “Um, isn't it sensitive?”

Molly shrugged. “Yeah. Since it's you, though, I don't mind.” He winked, and Caleb coughed.

“I cannot tell if you're kidding.”

“Good.” Then Molly was moving towards him, sitting right in front of him- ah, right, Caleb had agreed to cuddling Molly, hadn't he? “Is this alright?” The tiefling asked as he leaned back into Caleb's chest.

“If your hair touches my face, it will burn,” he reminded him.

“Damn.” Molly leaned forward, but then froze, twisting back to face Caleb. “Oh, I know! Can we try that fireproofing spell now?”

“I suppose we can,” Caleb conceded, mostly because _fuck_ , the way Molly smiled at him made his heart flutter. “I cannot guarantee it will work, though.”

“That's fine with me!” Molly pulled away, spinning in the dirt to completely face Caleb. “So! How do we do this?”

“ _You_ do nothing but sit there.” Caleb studied him, frowning. “I have never done this on something _attached_ to someone before. You, ah, will have to sit _very_ still, and it is a very long ritual,” he warned.

“That's fine with me!” Molly practically chirped.

-

Caleb was beautiful illuminated by the firelight, his breathtakingly gorgeous blue eyes narrowed in focus. He mumbled under his breath in a language Molly didn't understand, and occasionally smeared one of his spell components into Molly's hair - that part was weird, but the redhead ignored all the questions he asked, so he never did get an explanation.

Molly got fidgety halfway in, and he squirmed in place, beginning to wonder when the hell this ritual would be over. He ended up amusing himself by trying to count the freckles dusting Caleb's nose and cheeks, until said redhead finally leaned back with an exhale.

“I think… it should work now? Um,” he held out a hand, hovering uncertainly. “Should I try?”

Molly answered by leaning forward, shoving his head into Caleb's hand. The heat felt nice - it reminded him of when he let Jester wash his hair. She always used water that started off way too hot, but it became pleasant after a few moments passed.

He missed Jester, he realized with a pang.

Hell, he missed _everyone_. He was desperate to go back, but how could he go back right now without drawing attention to them?

He shoved the thoughts away, letting a rumbling purr rise in his throat as Caleb's hand ran through his hair. Caleb jerked back as though he had been burned. “I did not hurt you, did I?”

“No, it's a good noise.” Molly waved one hand nonchalantly, and for a brief moment worried he had scared Caleb off, before the human let out a hum.

“Ah, okay.” A pause. “Do you want to sit like you were before?”

“Mhm.” With that, Molly was gently guided into the same sitting position as before, leaning against Caleb's chest. He let his eyes flutter shut, focusing on the sensation of fingers carding through his hair. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“You're inexperienced with touch, right? _Totally_ inexperienced?”

“The contact I've had with you is the most contact I have ever had.” Caleb let out a dry laugh. “I have… seen more, though. A little too much, unfortunately, after I shared a room with Astrid and Eodwulf.”

Molly _laughed_ at that one, his tail smacking the ground beside him the same way one might slap their knee. “I can imagine.” He almost followed up with something much dirtier, but he had a feeling Caleb wouldn't enjoy hearing his friends talked about like that.

He hesitated before his next question. “How far do you want to go?”

Caleb stiffened, his hand freezing in Molly's hair. “I don't know,” he admitted after a long moment.

“Well, we have plenty of time to figure that out, I suppose,” Molly hurried to add, and he felt Caleb relax beneath him.

“I suppose we do,” he murmured in response.

Molly broke the silence after a few minutes passed. “Well!” He clapped his hands together. “I think I should ask a few  _funner_  questions.”

“Funner is not a word, I don't think- ah, what kind of fun do you mean, though?” 

Molly tapped a claw on his chin in pretend thought. “What's the best lie you've ever told?”

Caleb seemed to think for a moment. “I once convinced Eodwulf - when we were younger, of course - that eating enough dog food would make you _turn into_ a dog.” He chuckled fondly. “He ate it for about a week or two before his parents found out and told him the truth. What about you?”

Molly was too busy cackling to respond immediately. Eventually, though, he leaned back, resting his head on Caleb's shoulder and twisting slightly to look up at the redhead. “I don't think it beats your dog food trick, _but_ …”

They told stories for what seemed like hours, and as Molly drifted off to sleep, it occurred to him that despite all the chaos, he was _happy_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> local dumbasses dont know how to keep watch
> 
> updates may be slow for a bit my brains kicking my ass lmao


End file.
